Worthless
by The-Angst-Chronicles
Summary: Lance breaks down after a mission, not knowing that his comm was on. The rest of the team overhears.
1. Chapter 1

**WORD COUNT: 1990**

 **PAIRING: NONE**

 **TAGS: angst, langst, hurt/comfort(?)**

 **SUMMARY: Lance breaks down after a mission, not knowing that his comm was on. The rest of the team overhears.**

 **COMMENTS: you can just call this "Self-Projection: The Fic". Seriously, the whole first bit with him getting overwhelmed and unable to focus is very much just ripped straight from my damn life (except, you know, I'm not in space shooting at aliens :T )**

 **This was inspired by a post by lmnomo on tumblr. It was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept fucking it up and I rewrote it like three times so I'm just going to post this part so that I can't go back and change it anymore, and then post the second part with the teams' reaction when I finish it. It's still a one-shot in spirit *glares*.**

 **This part is pretty much just angst, but I guess there'll be some comfort in the next bit. Probably.**

 **Don't forget to yell at me on tumblr, the-angst-chronicles - it's very much 18+ tho, so don't go if you're a minor *waggles finger*. I also have an angst playlist there that I listened to when I was writing this (I need to edit it there are some songs that don't work, but for the most part I think it's okay).**

"Lance, look out!"

Lance looked around just in time to see a blast of fire light up his screens and destroy the Galra ship that had been targeting him. He winced, rubbing at his eyes to try and curb the afterimage while Shiro's voice crackled at him through the coms.

"You need to pay more attention Lance. You're lucky that Keith was there."

Keith, it was always Keith. Nothing he did could ever measure up, could ever even come close to the great Keith. He watched as the Red Paladin spiraled away, his lion all but dancing through the battlefield as he tore through enemy ships.

Lance grit his teeth and pulled himself and Blue back into the fight. The battle flashed around him, a cacophony of light and sound that beat at his senses. He fought the urge to retreat from the overwhelming influx of sensory input, dragging his mind to bear.

Details jumped out at him from every direction, meaningless and important and everything in-between. It was draining, sifting through it all so fast to decide what to focus on. That fighter going after Pidge. Now three are trying to herd Hunk. Oh, and there's a civilian in danger down there.

He twirled Blue around, turning his back on the ship he'd been fighting to plunge after the one falling in flames toward the hapless alien.

"Come on, come on," he muttered to himself, pushing Blue as fast as she would go. The sounds of battle still raged in his ears but it was now muted, as though someone had stuffed his head with cotton. The flaming ship sharpened, brightened, and his focus snapped to it. He could feel Blue's mind following, and then she was there alongside him, the ship the only thing she saw. His desire to catch it was her desire, and so catch it she did. She clamped her jaws down on it and tossed it to the side, sending it careening harmlessly into a field, and let out a triumphant roar.

Then something was smashing into them and the battle came crashing back in around Lance. He winced as it all flowed in again, smells and sounds and the sight of Yellow where he'd been a moment ago, turned so that it's armoured shoulder was taking the shots from the fighter ship that Lance had abandoned.

Then Black was there, slicing through the ship with his jaw-blade. "Good work Hunk," came Shiro's voice crackling over the coms, "Lance, be more careful."

Lance grit his teeth – he'd fucked up again, why did he always fuck up? – but forced the feeling down. "You got it, my man. Careful is my middle name. Right after Brave and before Dashing," he had to dig a little deeper than usual for levity these days, but he shrouded himself with it like a cloak. A few groans filtered over the coms in response.

"Lance, take this seriously," Keith snapped, as Red twirled past and shot down three ships with one blast of fire

Lance frowned but fell silent, gliding into battle alongside Hunk. In the resulting quiet he had trouble finding an anchor against the torrent of sensation that the battle was sending his way. It was one thing when somebody was in trouble – Lance's protective instincts would go into overdrive, he could focus on his immediate mission (saving them) to ground himself, and he would be fine. But when it was just 'shoot down Galra ships' – yeah, that was too broad. He couldn't cling to the Galra ships as an anchor, there were too many doing too much too loudly.

Normally he would keep up a commentary of sorts – because chatter was something he could focus on, small enough not to overwhelm him and unimportant enough that he could pay it little attention – a thread of normalcy amidst utter chaos that he could cling to with both hands – but he was already pushing it with the team today. Shiro and Keith were both annoyed, and Hunk had had to abandon his post to save Lance's ass so he was probably sick of Lance too.

So he fought quietly, doing his best to keep himself from getting overwhelmed by everything. It wasn't working – there was just so much, where was he supposed to even start? He knew he was flying erratically, but it was too difficult to focus on any one thing when everything else was pulling at his attention. Dammit, why couldn't he fly with music or something, something structured and rational that he could brace against instead of spinning out in this avalanche of sensation?

He hadn't made the conscious decision to do so, but he found himself humming. It was nothing special, just an old lullaby he'd sung to his little niece a week before leaving to the Garrison for the last time. The memory made his heart ache, but the tune helped him fight off the disorienting cacophony of sight and sound.

" _Lance!_ " It was Pidge. "Could you stop with the humming? It's distracting!"

"Yeah, would you please focus on fighting the Galra?" Keith chimed in, sounding annoyed.

Lance bit back the next hum, resisting the urge to curl his arms around himself. They were right, he had to remember. He was a Paladin of Voltron, defender of the Universe, not some little grade-school kid who couldn't focus because there was too much noise and light.

He just had to pick a ship and focus. It's not that hard. There, that one, right in front. Shoot shoot, pew pew, down it goes. The sound was swelling around him like a wave, and he didn't have his surfboard. Pew pew ice-beam, there goes another. Lights beat at the edges of his vision, ships firing from all directions. Ice-beam, laser, tear it apart. He just wanted to cover his ears, clench his eyes, and scream. Ice-beam, ice-beam, shoot them all down.

"Keith, look out!" Lance's eyes snapped back open at the cry and he looked around to see Keith rolling out of the way of his last ice beam.

"Lance, what the hell?" Keith called out angrily. Lance wilted in shame.

"Ah, sorry buddy," he apologized weakly.

Before Keith could retort, Shiro was there again. "Lance, Keith, pay more attention to what your teammates are doing. We don't want any friendly fire," he ordered.

Lance heard Keith grumbling at getting scolded, and felt worse. Now he was dragging Keith down too. Keith was too good of a pilot to be pulled down by Lance's incompetence. Keith probably had _no trouble_ keeping his mind on the battle at hand. There was no way he was as suffocated by everything as Lance was, not with him flying the way he did.

Because Keith was an ace pilot, and Lance was just a boy from Cuba who was in over his head. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself back into the fight.

* * *

By the time they boarded the Castleship, Lance was exhausted. The rest of the team was milling about, talking about the mission and giving out compliments over one another's various exploits. Lance slipped away before anyone could notice him and call him out for his mistakes, making his solitary way to his room and sitting heavily on the bed.

He let out a disgusted sigh as he pulled his helmet from his head, clicking off the comm and tossing it aside. He didn't notice when it landed with the switch striking the edge of the bed and clicking back on. He dropped his head into his hands and let out a deep groan.

"Ay dios, what am I doing here?" he mumbled at his palms. They didn't answer. Lance sighed again and dropped himself back onto the firm mattress, staring at the plain ceiling of the bed enclave. His mind was racing, still spinning and whirling him back through his failures of the day, through his inability to stay focused, through almost hurting his teammate. And then back further, through previous battles, through all of the mistakes he had made since the beginning.

And shit, he had been messing up since before they had found Voltron. He'd been dragging Hunk and Pidge down since the Garrison, back when he'd had no excuse because even when the sims were loud he'd been the pilot and in charge and he could babble to his heart's content so _what_ could have been distracting him there?

 _Iverson. The pressure of being watched, waiting for him to fuck up. The knowledge that they expected him to._

But no, if he couldn't handle a little scrutiny what good was he? No wonder he had just been a cargo pilot. A fighter pilot that fell apart because of a little noise or because somebody didn't believe in them was _worthless_. And that was Lance. Piloting a fighting lion. Unable to keep himself in the game.

"Completely worthless," he realized out loud. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it rang through the silent room, hanging heavily about him with the unalienable truth of the words.

He fought back tears, his hand slipping into his pocket and clenching around the beaded necklace that he kept there. It was a plain thing, part of a matching set he'd made for his mami as a child. When he'd been leaving for the Garrison with tears rolling down his face, she had taken it and tucked it into his pocket. He had protested, but she'd hugged him close, gestured to its twin around her neck, and told him that whenever he felt lonely to hold it and know that its other half rested over her heart. Usually holding it made him feel closer to her, more connected. Now, he just felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry mami," he sobbed quietly into the silence, "I'm so sorry. I wanted to make you proud but I'm not- I can't-" He broke off as he felt himself losing the battle against the tears. He brought the back of the hand that was still clutching the necklace to his face, covering his eyes as tears streamed by.

He didn't deserve to be a Paladin. The others were risking their lives, day in and day out, to try and save innocent aliens and free the universe from the Galra, and he was making it harder for them by messing up all the time. And now he was lying here in the dark crying about it, instead of training and fixing himself.

"Pathetic," he mumbled, "that's me." He let out another sniffle and dropped his hand away from his face and stared down at his helmet. "I don't deserve that," he confessed to the darkness. "I'm just dragging them down, I can't get anything right. I'm just…just deadweight that they have to lug around." He laughed bitterly through his tears and pulled himself into a sitting position, picking up the discarded helmet.

"Iverson was right," he whispered to his reflection. "You really are just a worthless fuckup. Completely useless. That's all you've ever been." He paused, thinking back to his days at the Garrison. Always bungling the flight simulators, trashing their scores and their standings. Pidge and Hunk were geniuses, they should have been at the top of the class and lauded and applauded – but they'd been stuck with some third-rate wannabee who just brought them failure.

"Everyone would be better off if I weren't there," he realized quietly. His fingers tightened around the necklace and he wondered, not for the first time, how his family was doing without him. Maybe they were better off. Maybe they were happy. Another laugh choked up through his throat, mingling with sobs. "Of course they are. It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me."

A moment of silence followed, during which Lance just closed his eyes and cried. Then, as clear as day, Pidge's voice spoke from the tinny helmet comm. _"Lance?"_


	2. Chapter 2

**WORD COUNT: ~13, 979**

 **PAIRING: NONE**

 **TAGS/WARNINGS: angst, langst, hurt/comfort, mention of suicide, some anxiety and panic, a character having a breakdown is confronted by 6 others**

 **SUMMARY: Lance breaks down after a mission, not knowing that his comm was on. The rest of the team overhears.**

 **COMMENTS: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST!**

 **The timeline for this chapter is fucked up. Each character's POV section** ** _except_** **Lance's repeats in the same timeline in the second part of the first chapter. As such, there is a certain amount of repetition, especially in what they hear. If you only want to read the POV of a certain character, I've labelled all sections with "[Name] POV".**

 **Lance's POV sections are small and interspersed between the other characters. They follow a linear timeline with respect to each other, with the first one following directly after chapter one and the subsequent ones following after the one before.**

 **Coran's POV section starts out repeating the timeline of the second part of the first chapter, but then goes a bit further to encompass Lance's POV sections and a bit beyond, which segues into the Team POV.**

 **-OKAY YOU CAN SKIP THE REST OF THE COMMENTS IF YOU WANT-**

 **Well, here it is 6 months late. So sorry orz. I have such a hard time writing comfort lol. Hopefully this came out okay. It's not beta read so if you catch any mistakes let me know!**

 **Thank you to all the people who reviewed, followed, and favourited the first chapter. I love you guys.**

 **All of the POV sections up to Allura were written before Season 3, and as such I chose to ignore Seasons 3 and 4 in the parts that were written after their airing date as well. I didn't want to rewrite too much since this took me so long anyway lol.**

* * *

Pidge POV

Pidge blew out a relieved sigh as she sat herself firmly in front of her computer. Although she enjoyed spending time with the team and affirming herself of their presence after missions, she never felt truly relaxed until she could feel the cool familiarity of keys beneath her fingers and the steady glow of the screen on her eyes.

The post-mission mingle had been cut short when they'd noticed that Lance had bailed, and Keith had gotten angry. She understood. Lance been off his game today, and attacking Keith was something he should have at least apologized for. She knew that she wasn't alone in wishing that he would take their missions more seriously sometimes, and bailing out on a post-mission debriefing when he was the one who had been botching things up was frustrating.

Shiro had decided to let him decompress instead of finding him, though. He was too easy on Lance at times, and Pidge knew that Keith felt it too. He had stormed off to the training deck after that, and Shiro had followed with a sigh.

Hunk's nervous hand-wringing hinted that he wanted to hit the kitchens, so they had gone their separate ways as well. She'd come straight here to her hangar workstation, set up her kit, and begun working on updating her Galra location algorithm.

It wasn't long into her work when the rhythmic tapping of fingers on keys was interrupted by a faint noise. Pidge paused, head canted, and listened. After a few moments of silence, it came again – an indistinct sound accompanied by the familiar quiet static of the helmet coms.

Curious, she picked up her helmet from where she'd deposited it beside her bed and put it on, listening for the transmission. After yet more silence she returned to her coding, still half-listening for any incoming communication.

It a few more ticks before she heard Lance's voice, muffled and indistinct and clearly not directed at the com. He must not know that it was on, she realized with glee. She cranked up the volume, hoping for some good blackmail material.

All she got was indistinct muttering that sounded like the tail end of a sentence – the word _deadweight_ , spat out bitterly, was all she could make out. Pidge rolled her eyes internally as she realized that he was probably just complaining about Keith to make himself feel better. She loved him, but he really needed to get over this childish rivalry. If today was an indication, it clearly wasn't pushing him to do better.

There was a shuffling from the other end of the transmission, and then the deep thud of something bumping the mic. She had a moment to wonder what was going on before Lance spoke again.

" _Iverson was right,"_ he said in a whisper, his voice clear and close now. He must have picked up his helmet. Pidge couldn't think of much Iverson had been right about, but Lance was quick to continue.

" _You really are just a worthless fuckup. Completely useless. That's all you've ever been."_ Pidge's breath caught, her fingers stilling on the keys. What – Who was he talking to? Certainly not the whole group, but Pidge could hear it which must mean he had a connection to her. But then… but then she had heard him talking before he was holding the helmet, so he –

Cold fingers of dread gripped her spine as she froze. He couldn't mean –

" _Everyone would be better off if I weren't there,"_ Lance murmured, his voice heartbreakingly sincere. Pidge's body felt numb, her eyes wide. The terrible, desperately sad laugh that followed brought tears to her eyes. She wanted to say something, anything, to scream at him that this wasn't true, but her voice was trapped by the lump in her throat. Her hands were shaking.

Lance continued talking, his voice sounding muffled over the roaring of her ears. _"Of course they are. It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me."_ And just like that the tears welled over, spilling over her cheeks unhindered. There was no way. There was no way that those words came from her Lance, her fun-loving, caring, obnoxious, kind-hearted, big-brother Lance. How long had he been thinking these things?

It took her a few tries to get through the thickness in her throat, and when she did she could barely speak; all she could get out was a shaky, broken, "Lance?"

* * *

Lance POV

Lance dropped the helmet as though it had burnt him, his whole body flinching away from it. He could faintly hear, still, Shiro calling his name and the heartbreaking whimpers that preceded Hunk breaking into tears.

Lance felt terrible. How had he managed to fuck up again? Now he had the whole team worried about him when they should be relaxing after a tiring mission. Instead of coming up with a way to be better, he had just sat here and made everything worse.

He felt another sob wracking his chest. He couldn't even do this right. God he was useless.

Angrily, he swiped away the tears and scrubbed his hand over his face. No. He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep being a wreck.

* * *

Shiro POV

Shiro had followed after Keith when the younger boy had stormed off, knowing that he shouldn't leave him to stew. The Red Paladin was angry, and although Shiro knew that he worked his anger off best against the training bot, he also wanted to make sure that Keith wasn't feeling that Shiro was siding with Lance over him.

And by offering to be his sparring partner, Shiro was giving him the opportunity to work his frustration out against one of the people who'd caused it. Hopefully it would help him work it out faster. Indeed, when Keith's eyes caught Shiro following him into the training room he immediately squared off against him and readied his sword.

As they prepared to spar, a sharp sound came through the comm, followed by a muffled voice. Both Paladins paused, listening, but nothing more was transmitted. Keith shrugged it off and got back into position, and he followed suit.

Keith attacked first, and Shiro noticed that he was going all in today. He clearly wanted a challenge, and so Shiro gave him one. The match was fast and intense, and took most of Shiro's focus. He could see how this helped Keith clear his mind.

A little way into the match, Shiro thought he heard something come through the helmet speakers. He paused to listen, but it was gone almost immediately. Keith's sudden kick knocked the wind out of him and he quickly turned his attention back to the fight.

For a little while longer, the only sounds Shiro heard came from either him or Keith. Then a transmission started up over the comm again, too quiet to make out what was being said but indisputably there. He took a moment after knocking Keith away to turn the volume up, but the voice coming through was indistinct and muffled. It sounded like Lance.

Before he could ask Lance to speak up, Keith was back on his feet and coming at him. Shiro only just blocked his next strike, and reluctantly shifted his focus from the comm back to the match.

The next few moments were comprised of a series of blocks and strikes, accompanied by Lance's murmuring interspersed with bouts of silence.

Then came a loud thump of something hitting the microphone, and Lance spoke again. His voice was now close and clear, and Shiro had no trouble hearing what he was saying.

" _Iverson was right. You really are just a worthless fuckup. Completely useless. That's all you've ever been."_

Shiro stumbled to a halt, raising a hand to signal Keith to stop. He needn't have bothered – Keith was frozen in his tracks, his wide eyes fixed on the ground.

Silence fell again, and Shiro frowned absently as he thought over the transmission. Who had Lance been insulting? Who had _Iverson_ called a worthless fuckup? He knew that Keith had been kicked out of the Garrison – had Lance tried to pick a fight with Keith and mistakenly done so on a public channel?

Keith apparently came to a similar conclusion, because the Red Paladin suddenly threw down his Bayard and stormed to the door. Shiro rushed after him, catching his arm. Lance couldn't be insulting his fellow Paladins, but Shiro knew that if Keith confronted him now while both were so angry it would not end well. "Keith –" he started, but before he could say any more Lance was speaking again.

" _Everyone would be better off if I weren't there."_

Both Shiro and Keith froze again, Shiro's eyes widening in horror at the choking laugh that followed as he processed the words. Lance hadn't been insulting Keith. He'd been saying those things about _himself_.

" _Of course they are. It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me."_

"Shit!" Shiro swore, brushing past Keith as he broke into a run. He heard a small, broken call of "Lance?" from Pidge, and then a loud thumping noise. "Lance?" He called into his comm as he ran. "Lance, are you okay? Talk to me!"

There was no answer. Shiro pushed himself faster, ran harder. His heart tightened further each time he called out and was met by silence. He needed to get to Lance. What he had heard there – that was more than just remorse for Lance's performance today. No, that heartbroken certainty in his voice spoke of much deeper problems. How long had Lance felt this way? How long had he not noticed his teammate, his _friend_ , feeling this way?

* * *

Lance POV

By the time Coran reached his door, Lance had managed to pack away his emotional meltdown and drag a semblance of calm onto his face. He knew he'd have to talk to them about this eventually, but he wasn't ready to face the team. He still felt too vulnerable and exposed for that. He needed to pack it away until later, when he was strong enough to talk without crying.

The utter devastation on the Coran's face as the door swept open was almost enough to knock the façade from his face, but he clung to it stubbornly. The team didn't need to see his breakdown. He couldn't put this on them.

"Hey Coran," he mumbled weakly, offering a small smile.

Coran replied with a weak croak of his name and stepped into the room.

Lance swallowed down another swell of emotion and instead met Coran's eyes steadily, clinging to his flimsy smile. "I'd really like to not talk about it right now," he confessed. "Please," he added when Coran didn't leave.

He needed Coran to go before he cracked, before it was revealed just how thin this veneer was. Just how weak he was.

* * *

Hunk POV

Hunk made for the kitchen as soon as the team separated, his stomach twisting with anxiety. He wasn't blind – he could tell that the rest of the team were pissed at Lance. If he was being honest, he was a little pissed at Lance too; he'd been flying erratically out there and he'd nearly hit Keith. Hunk knew that Lance could be irresponsible, but he was always serious when it counted, so what gave?

But the team was angry, tangibly so. And they were going to lecture Lance – which, yeah, fair, but _still_. Lance was his friend, and he didn't want to see him upset. And Lance was always upset after he was yelled at. His stomach flipped again and he groaned in dismay as he pictured the downtrodden look that his friend always sported when someone chewed him out.

The familiar movements of measuring out ingredients were soothing, and Hunk let himself get caught up in the flow. He'd make recipe that Lance loved (and called him a 'genius space chef' for) the first time he'd tried it. It would hopefully help cheer his friend up again – Lance always wanted comfort when he was sad though he rarely asked outright, and if he didn't get it he might go out partying or drinking instead. Hunk was sure that that would end badly if he tried to do it in space.

After these cookies were done, he'd try to talk to Keith and Shiro. Maybe he'd be able to convince them to be gentle on Lance. Or he'd have to stand by uncomfortably while his best friend got reamed out. His stomach gave another anxious twist at the thought. Yep, definitely going to talk to Shiro and Keith.

When the comm suddenly activated, Hunk jerked with surprise and knocked over the bag of powdery substance he used as flour. "Quiznack," he moaned to himself. Hastily, he righted it and then grabbed the helmet and jabbed it on his head, heart pounding.

The absolute nothing that greeted him made him even more nervous. With shaking hands, he resumed his cooking, listening hard for any sign from the team.

It was a while before anything more came through, and when it did he barely heard it. He stilled, holding his breath as he listened, but the comm was quiet again. Hunk swallowed down the uneasy feeling building in his gut, vigorously stirring the batter while he mouthed a mantra of _it's okay, it's okay_. It was okay. Somebody had forgotten to close their channel. That was all. Still, Hunk had a bad feeling.

The bad feeling grew when the comm crackled to life again. He still couldn't hear it. There was definitely talking now, but it was muffled and indistinct. It was… it sounded like Lance. But it was so quiet. Why was it so quiet?

Hunk had no idea what he was saying, but it didn't matter. It didn't stop his stomach from doing gymnastics in his gut. _It's okay, it's okay_.

The low thud of something hitting a mic was like a gunshot to him. Then Lance's voice was there again, clear and close at last.

" _Iverson was right."_

The bowl that Hunk had been mixing clattered to the floor, his hands suddenly too numb to hold it.

" _You really are just a worthless fuckup."_

He'd known his best friend long enough to recognize the self-loathing that overflowed from his voice. Lance hadn't given any indication as to whom the words were directed, but it didn't matter. Hunk _knew._

He abandoned the bowl without a second thought, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the door, to find his friend. And then Lance's voice came through again.

" _Everyone would be better off if I weren't there."_ Hunk stumbled to a stop at that, his heart squeezing itself into a chokehold, and he could hardly breathe. Lance… Lance not being here – he couldn't – how could Lance think that?

The very thought of losing his best friend made his stomach churn; he had to fight down the urge to hurl. Lance continued on with a bitter laugh, oblivious, relentless. _"Of course they are. It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me,"_ he stated quietly over the com.

Did he really think that? That they wouldn't – that _Hunk_ wouldn't – miss him? He wanted to scream at his best friend, to grab him by the shoulders and make him realize how much Hunk needed him, but his voice was caught in his throat, choking on the bile that he was trying to keep down, and all that he could get out was pathetic whimpers.

Lance wasn't – he wasn't hearing what he thought – Lance couldn't be about to _kill himself_ could he? He knew that he needed to move, to find him, but he couldn't hold it back any more. The thought of his best friend, so down and hurt and beaten and ready to give up on his life – Hunk vomited.

His knees gave out under him and he slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking with sobs and heaves as his stomach emptied onto the floor. And then the tears followed, as though floodgates had been opened, and Hunk could barely stand as his sobs wracked his body with violent shudders.

But – but he wasn't important right now. He had to get to Lance before – before anything terrible happened. He needed to. He couldn't lose his best friend.

Hunk stumbled out into the hall, barely able to walk straight or see through his tears, shaking as he cried, but running for all he was worth to save one of the most important things he had left out here.

* * *

Lance POV

Coran stared at him for a moment, a long, terrible, moment during which Lance tried for all he was worth to hold his composure. Then he let out a broken noise and all but fell on Lance, pulling him close into a crushing hug.

Lance stiffened at the contact, trying to maintain his shell, trying to hold his smile. But it seemed like Coran was squeezing the cracks in his façade, and he was helpless to do anything but shake as it fell apart around him.

Every negative thought that he'd been trying to repress welled back up, crashing over him and pulling him under. He wasn't even aware of the first sob, but the pressure around him shifted and then his head was resting on a hard shoulder and a soothing voice was cooing in his ear as he drowned in his sorrow.

* * *

Keith POV

Keith had been furious as he stormed away from the group.

He'd always had a hard time finding friends, family, and he cherished the one he had built here. Lance, in particular, felt like what he'd always imagined a brother to be before he had met Shiro; someone to laugh with and fight with, who kept him on his toes in one breath and had his back in the next. There was something about the blue paladin that always comforted Keith, and despite their bickering he was honestly fond of him.

It was one of the reasons he was so angry about today. It would be easier to let it go that Lance had attacked him and then hadn't even said sorry if he didn't care. If he didn't think of Lance as a friend. He'd been so upset when Lance had disappeared after the mission, and with that came fury.

When he caught sight of Shiro following after him into the training room, another pang of irritation set off in his chest. Lance could have 'time to decompress' but Shiro wouldn't afford him the same? But even as the thought came, it was gone again. Shiro was here for Keith, in case he needed him. Just like he always was.

Slightly mollified, Keith turned to face his closest friend and moved into a fighting stance. Shiro followed without comment.

Before they could start, however, he was interrupted by a loud noise coming from the helmet comm. He stopped, listening, but all he heard was a low murmur that quickly abated.

Shrugging it off as nothing, he readied his sword and attacked. Shiro was a tad slow on the uptake, and Keith used that to his advantage to hit him with a relentless barrage. He'd not been the Champion for nothing though; it only took him a second to regain himself, and then Shiro was coming at him hard.

He gave a feral grin as he landed a solid kick. This was what he'd needed. This outlet of aggression, this distraction, this adrenaline burning through him. He felt untouchable.

But he could tell that something was wrong. Shiro was distracted, stopping occasionally and fiddling with his helmet. Keith snarled and threw a strike that shouldn't have landed. It nearly did. Shiro's eyes widened as he blocked and his hand dropped away from his helmet. So he knew that Keith had noticed. Good.

Shiro didn't stop for his helmet again, but his focus wasn't on the fight. Fighting was not therapeutic when his opponent wasn't all in, and Keith's hackles were raising again. He was getting sloppier in his anger, but Shiro wasn't calling him on it, nor was he exploiting the openings.

Just as Keith was about to scream in sheer frustration at him, a thud came through the helmet comm, loud enough that it cut through Keith's focus. He paused in surprise, and then Lance's voice was speaking to him in a whisper.

" _Iverson was right. You really are just a worthless fuckup. Completely useless. That's all you've ever been."_

W-what? Keith froze, his eyes wide, as his heart panged. Hurt. That had hurt. Why was Lance saying this to him? Iverson was a sore spot to Keith, had made him feel stupid and irrational. Iverson was the reason he'd been kicked out of the Garrison.

 _Iverson was right._

No. Suddenly, all of the aggression he'd thought he'd been working off was back full force. Lance had _no_ damned right to say that. He snarled, flinging his Bayard aside and storming to the door. He was not going to take this!

Of course, Shiro tried to stop him. He whirled, ready to fight, but before he could say anything, before Shiro could even finish trying to calm him, Lance spoke again.

" _Everyone would be better off if I weren't there."_

Both of them froze as a horrible laugh was choked out, Keith's brain screeching to a standstill as realization sunk in. This wasn't about _Keith_ , this was –

" _Of course they are. It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me."_

And Keith thought that his heart was breaking.

 _Iverson was right. You really are just a worthless fuckup._

Not Keith. Lance thought that about himself. Lance, his friend, his _brother_ , thought that they would be better off without him.

Keith didn't know how to handle this. He'd protect his loved ones with everything he had. He would kill and die for this whole team. But there was nowhere to stick his sword this time. There was no enemy that he could take down and make everything better. There was just Lance, and those terrible, horrible _words._

 _It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me_

Just like that, tears started dripping down his cheeks. How could Lance even think this? How could he not see how much they loved him? How much Keith loved him? How could he not know that he one of the few people in the universe that Keith cared about? How could he not realise that he was _family_?

And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to go to Lance, to hug him and never let go. He needed to let him know how much he cared.

Still failing to hold back tears, he pushed himself shakily to the door. Shiro was already gone, he realised. Lance must have broadcast to the whole team. That was good.

Keith wasn't good at emotions. He didn't know how to calm people with words, how to make them feel better. It was hard to work through his own emotions most of the time. But the others – Shiro was amazing at it. And Hunk, Hunk was Lance's best friend and could always cheer him up. He knew that they could handle it.

But he still needed to go. Because Lance was his brother, and he couldn't stand him not knowing that, couldn't stand him thinking that he was anything less, for a single second longer.

So, with tears still falling, Keith hurried out of the training room.

* * *

Lance POV

He didn't know how long he sat there in Coran's gentle hold, his head tickling as Coran's mustache rustled around the soothing noises he issued. Coran didn't try to pry, just rocked him back and forth, letting Lance cry it out.

Eventually, the sound of the door sliding open disturbed the relative quiet and startled him out of his well of misery. He peeked over Coran's shoulder to the doorway. Shiro stood there panting, his eyes wild as they scanned the room until they fell on the pair.

Lance froze, his breath catching. No no no, Shiro shouldn't be here. Not while his defenses were still so thoroughly down. He wasn't ready to talk, wasn't ready to stop crying yet. But he couldn't cry at Shiro.

Shiro was someone you went to with a plan, or for advice. He was great like that. But he wasn't somebody you cried to. It was okay to fall apart around Coran. Coran was safe. Coran always helped, listened and talked and didn't judge.

But Shiro… Shiro had been through so much more, so much worse, and he'd never broken down crying in front of them all. If Shiro could hold it together, Lance had no reason to fall apart.

But the tears wouldn't stop, and Shiro didn't leave. Instead he was coming closer, his eyes wide and worried, and Lance's breath hitched. His trying to suppress his tears wasn't working, and the frustration was only making him cry more. He needed to get it together, because apparently the time to talk about this was now and he wouldn't – _couldn't_ – do that while he was crying like a baby.

He couldn't get himself under control, though. He managed to slow his breathing from the uncontrollable sobs he'd been spouting previously and he could break himself away from Coran's hold. But the tears still streamed from his eyes despite his best effort, and his hands shook and his breath trembled audibly.

"I'm sorry," he gritted out, hanging his head and clenching his fists in frustration. He couldn't even get himself together to talk like an adult. How was he going to convince them that he could be a better Paladin if he couldn't even act like one for this conversation? Another sob tore through him and he furiously pinched at his thigh, the pain giving him something to focus on.

Then gloved hands were there, pulling his hand away and cradling it between their own. One came up to his chin and tilted up his head, and he blinked wetly as Shiro's concerned face swam into focus much closer than he'd been a moment ago. He pulled Lance into a firm hug and cradled him against his chest.

"It's okay," he said, rubbing a hand up and down his back, "it's okay, let it out." Lance hesitated, then stopped fighting himself. With a shuddering breath, he sunk bonelessly into Shiro's hold and let his own arms curl up around his back, burying his face in his leader's shoulder and letting his tears soak the fabric.

* * *

Allura POV

" _\- our utmost thanks once more, Princess Allura. Without your brave Paladins, we would surely have fallen to the Galra."_

Allura bowed her head graciously in return, before straightening and facing the queen once more. "It is an honour to assist you and your people, Queen Eltra," she replied.

The alien queen smiled warmly and nodded. " _And it is our honour to host those who have come to our aid,"_ she replied. " _If it is amenable, we would request the attendance of the noble Alteans and the Paladins of Voltron over the next eight varga, as the guests of honour of the distinguished_ _Lionheart Festival."_

Allura blinked, taken aback. The Lionheart Festival was a fabled one on the planet Tyllo, only thrown when a hero so influential that they were written into myth appeared. To be named a Lionheart was incredibly rare.

"…That is quite the honour," she managed.

" _Yes,"_ Queen Eltra agreed without hesitation, " _and, I believe, a worthy one. You have saved our home and what's more I have received reports that your Blue Paladin left themself vulnerable in order to rescue a single civilian. To give oneself and one's life, not to cause, nation, or glory, but to the individual – this selflessness is the spirit of the Lionheart. It is heartening that it is embodied in the Paladins of Voltron. We are most pleased to celebrate such heroes."_

Allura bit back her proud smile. "We would be most honoured to attend the Lionheart Festival, Queen Eltra," she said with a bow.

The queen mimicked her bow. _"Then it is our pleasure to host you, Princess Allura."_ She gave a small smile as she straightened. _"If you are able to spare your Blue Paladin tomorrow, the citizen that was rescued would like to thank his saviour"_

"I'm sure Lance would be most appreciative," Allura replied, unable to hold back a fond smile as she imagined Lance's excited crowing at the prospect.

With polite goodbyes, she ended the call and turned on her comms to tell the Paladins the news. Immediately, Lance's voice filled her ears.

" _Everyone would be better off if I weren't there,"_ he said in a quiet, sad voice. She paused, confused. This must be the middle of a conversation that the team was having, and she wondered what they were doing that Lance felt would be better without him.

There was a beat of silence, then two, in which surely someone should have replied to that. And then Lance continued. _"Of course they are. It's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me."_

Allura had a moment of pure confusion, before finally someone replied. _"Lance?"_ It was Pidge, her voice small and lost in a way that Allura rarely heard from the fierce young warrior.

Pidge was quickly followed by Shiro, who was calling desperately for Lance, and Hunk, who was making strange whimpering noises. Several ticks went by, and Lance didn't say any more.

Increasingly confused, Allura tapped her comm earring. "Paladins, what is happening?" She asked firmly. Her question was slightly lost to Shiro's continued pleading with Lance to talk to him, and she received no answer.

Slightly annoyed at the snub, Allura huffed. "What's Lance done now?"

Her tone evidently betrayed her annoyance – when Keith answered, his voice was brusque and angry. "No," he snapped, "don't start on him. He hasn't done anything!"

Allura froze slightly, her assurance that Lance was not the target of her ire falling still in her surprise. Although they got along better, Keith being the one to bat for Lance was beyond unlikely. What had happened?

"Is he alright?" She asked urgently.

Silence answered her. Then Keith blew out a sigh. "No, not really," he replied.

She waited a tick, and when he didn't elaborate she pressed. "What's wrong? Do I need to ready a healing pod?"

This time, it was Coran who answered her. "Princess. He doesn't need a healing pod. But I think that you need to hear this for yourself."

She waited as he gave her the time of the transmission log, and then pulled it up on her datapad.

" _Ay dios, what am I doing here?"_ came Lance's voice, so quiet that she could barely make it out. Nobody answered him, and a glance down at the vocal rhythm displayed on the screen showed a long silence. Brow furrowing in confusion, she skipped ahead to where it showed a small blip of audio.

" _Completely worthless,"_ and then silence again. Unsure of what he was calling worthless, she skipped ahead again to the next bump in the rhythm. _"I'm sorry mami. I'm so sorry. I wanted to make you proud but I'm not- I can't-"_

And just like that, Allura understood what was going on. Her eyes widened in alarm and her footsteps picked up as she began to run down the hall. Through the recording, she could hear the faint sound of Lance crying and declaring himself pathetic, talking about how he was deadweight to the team. Her heart broke at the certainty in his tone.

Then came an alarmingly loud thump, and Lance's voice was suddenly close and clear. _"Iverson was right. You really are just a worthless fuckup. Completely useless. That's all you've ever been."_

Whoever this Iverson was, Allura was going to have _words_ with them later. How dare they put such thoughts in Lance's head?

There was another short pause in which she simmered in rage and worry, and then Lance's voice came again. _"Everyone would be better off if I weren't there,"_ he said quietly, and Allura's heart squeezed as she now realised the context.

"Oh Lance, no," she said out loud into the quiet of the hallway. _"Of course they are,"_ the recording continued, as if answering her, _"it's not like I've ever given them a reason to miss me."_ There was a small moment of silence, and then Pidge was calling Lance's name over the recording again.

Allura switched it off, unable to hold back the tears that misted her eyes. How could Lance – kind, funny, braggadocios Lance – think that nobody would miss him if he were gone? Did he think so little of himself as all that?

With a pang, she remembered her call to Tyllo earlier. Lance had won them the honour of being named Lionheart and secured an alliance not just today but for all time. And yet he had come back thinking himself not worthy even to be a Paladin. What had gone so wrong?

* * *

Lance POV

He hadn't been crying into Shiro's shoulder for long before the door was shoved aside and Hunk came thundering through, his breath and eyes wild. Lance froze, not wanting Hunk to see him in pieces.

"Lance," Hunk was shouting out. There was a pause, then an intake of breath. Lance heard his friend stumbling closer, his voice suddenly small as he spoke; "Is he…?"

"He's here," Shiro replied, shifting Lance further into Hunk's line of sight. Lance let out a small whine of protest, covering his tear-stained face with his hands.

Hunk was not dissuaded by the meagre barricade, immediately throwing his arms around Lance and squeezing him tight. "Oh thank god," he breathed, burying his face into Lance's hair.

Lance felt Hunk's tears dripping onto his scalp, and suddenly he was consumed by guilt. "'M sorry," he mumbled, squirming to get free of his friend's grip.

Hunk just clutched him tighter, letting out a small sob into his hair. Shiro's hand came up to stroke soothingly down Lance's back.

"It's okay Lance, you don't have to apologize for crying," Shiro reprimanded gently. "You don't have to hide from us. We're your family."

"Family," Lance whispered, his bottom lip trembling. He remembered his earlier conversation to his mother, how he had let his family down. It seemed that he was letting another one down now. "I'm sorry," he whimpered again.

Hunk kissed his forehead softly in response. "It's okay Lance," he soothed, "it's okay."

Shiro moved in closer, still rubbing up and down his back. "We're not angry Lance," he pressed sympathetically. Coran, who had moved away when Shiro hugged Lance, came back and took one of Lance's hands in both of his own.

"We're here for you my boy," he told him, his usually excitable tone somber, "take all the time you need."

Lance let out another wet sniffle, but allowed himself to lean into their embrace and draw strength from them. Maybe things would be okay after all.

* * *

Coran POV

The paladins had only just arrived back at the castle when a transmission rang through. Coran was standing near the console and answered quickly. He was met by the polite smile of who seemed to be the Queen of Tyllo, and he quickly sank into a bow as he greeted her. Her smile melted into a kinder version of itself as she inclined her head regally towards him in return before asking to speak to the Princess.

Coran wasted no time, rushing to catch Allura who had only just left the room moments prior. He caught up to her at the end of the hall, halting her steps with a call of her name.

"What is it Coran?" She asked. He could see the slight worry hidden in the lines of her brows, and he hastened to assuage it.

"There is no problem Princess," he assured, "but Queen Eltra of Tyllo would like to speak with you. The call is waiting on the deck."

Allura nodded. "Very well," she replied, her diplomatic smile already pulling into place. "Please alert the Paladins that I will not be attending today's debriefing."

"With pleasure," he agreed, stepping aside as she walked past him and back toward the control room. Then he continued on until he came to the lounge where the Paladins usually convened for their post-mission chit-chat.

It was empty. Surprised, but not perturbed, Coran made his way down to the hangars, wondering if perhaps something had happened to one of the lions and the team was trying to figure it out there.

Just as he reached them, a transmission patched through the comms. _"Ay dios, what am I doing here?"_ Came a quiet mumble. Coran recognized the voice as Lance and chuckled, figuring that the young Paladin must have simply gotten turned around in the large castle.

He turned to head back to the bridge, where he could track Lance's suit and go to retrieve him. Keeping a sharp eye out for the other Paladins, he made his way back up the numerous stairs that led to the main level of the castle.

Another transmission interrupted his journey before too long.

" _Completely worthless,"_ said Lance, but something about his tone caused Coran to pause. He could have simply been griping about his predicament, but it had sounded…wrong. He sped up his pace, brushing into the bridge quietly as to not interrupt Allura, who was deep in conversation with Queen Eltra.

A quick scan of the castle showed him that Lance was in his room, just as the comm crackled to life yet again. _"I'm sorry mami,"_ Lance was crying now, weeping as he spoke of how he had wanted to make whomever _Mami_ was proud.

A chill went through him as Coran replayed the earlier transmissions back with this new information, and he realized what must be happening. Quickly shutting down the computer, he made his way back into the hall and started for the Paladin quarters. Whatever was causing Lance to doubt himself, Coran wouldn't stand for it.

" _Pathetic, that's me,"_ Lance whispered in his ear, and his stride quickened. No Paladin…no _son_ of his was going to feel that way on his watch. _"I don't deserve that,"_ Lance seemed almost to reply, _"I'm just dragging them down, I can't get anything right."_

His eyes widened as Coran listened to Lance calling himself deadweight, breaking into a run as Lance laughed bitterly. The pure conviction there… this was worse than he'd imagined. It no longer seemed to be a moment of self-doubt, but a boiling over of feelings that had been simmering over the past little while. And while Coran couldn't understand why Lance would feel himself unworthy of being a Paladin, he understood that the longer that feeling went unchecked the worse things would be.

There was a thud so loud that Coran flinched, and then Lance's voice was close and clear as he continued to speak. " _Iverson was right. You really are just a worthless fuckup."_

He didn't know who Iverson was, but as Lance continued to describe his own worthlessness Coran decided that he despised this unknown person who had planted such seeds. Who had left one of the five bravest and most selfless people in the universe feeling as though his team would be better off without him.

Coran gained the floor on which the Paladin's Quarters were situated just as a new voice broke into the awful monologue. Pidge, calling after Lance in a tiny, wavering voice. A loud clatter followed, and then Shiro and Hunk were also on the comms. Coran ignored them all. He could hear Lance crying again, fainter now as he tried to force it down, and his entire focus was on the boy.

By the time he reached the hall that led to Lance's room, Lance had managed to quiet his cries. Nevertheless, Coran did not slow his pace as he raced for the door.

It slid open before him, revealing Lance wearing a weak smile that wobbled as he saw Coran. He gave a small greeting, but all Coran could hear were Lance's earlier words, replaying in his head, and all he could see was the sadness behind Lance's smile.

"Lance," was all he could say, stepping further into the room.

Lance met his gaze then, those watery blue eyes making his heart break. "I'd really not like to talk about it right now," he said waveringly. "Please."

Coran hesitated, caught between the desire to respect Lance's wish for privacy and his urgent need not to leave Lance alone with those terrible thoughts. He searched Lance's face, taking in the shaky smile that poorly masked the emotional turmoil and the teary eyes that were a moment away from spilling over; his helmet still emitting faint calls from the team and roughly tossed aside.

But Coran thought that it was Lance's hands, white-knuckled and twisting in his lap, straining an old beaded necklace so tight that his fingers paled, which made his decision. He pulled Lance close and hugged him for all he was worth, trying to impart at least some of how much he cared for him into the hug.

Lance went stiff in his arms, but he felt those hands pause in their movement and he was sure that he'd done the right thing. It was confirmed a moment later when Lance melted, slumping into him and sobbing. He relaxed, pulling the young Paladin in further to rest his head on his shoulder. He hummed into his hair; no real words, just soothing noises to let Lance know that he was there, and that this was okay.

A few dobashes passed, during which Coran simply rocked Lance as he cried, before Shiro burst into the room. Lance immediately stiffened in his arms, and although Coran redoubled his efforts to soothe him he didn't seem to notice.

All Coran could do was watch sadly as Lance forcibly pulled in his sobs and backed out of his hug. The young Paladin wiped furiously at his eyes, but it did little to stem the flow of tears down his cheeks. His heart broke again as Lance, clearly frustrated at himself, apologized for those tears. He turned, intent of shooing Shiro out so that Lance could work through these emotions before he tried to bottle them again, but Shiro was already moving past him.

Coran watched as he knelt in front of Lance, drawing his hands away from where they had started pinching at his thighs. When Shiro drew Lance into a hug, gently commanding him to let it out, Coran realized that it was okay. Shiro had a better grasp on this than he'd initially assumed, a notion that was reinforced as Lance broke down again into his leader's arms.

Coran smiled sadly as he stepped aside, realizing that Shiro would have more insight into what Earthlings might need in this situation. He took the time to turn on the comms, needing to know what was happening with the rest of the team and diffuse any potential anger that might be turned on Lance.

Immediately, Allura's voice sounded in his ear. "What's Lance done now?" She asked in obvious annoyance. Before Coran could say anything, Keith was snapping back at her to leave him alone. There was a slight pause, and then Allura spoke in a more urgent tone. "Is he alright?"

Coran thought of the weeping boy in the room behind him. No, he most certainly was not alright. Keith echoed the sentiment a moment later in his usual taciturn manner. "No, not really."

When Allura asked worriedly if she needed to ready a healing pod, Coran took the opportunity to step, lest Keith make her more concerned with those minimalist answers. "Princess," he said into his comm, "He doesn't need a healing pod. But I think that you need to hear this for yourself."

He quickly brought up the comm interface on his tablet and navigated to the recording from earlier. A clatter from the end of the hallway broke into his thoughts, and he looked up to see Hunk half stumbling and half running down the hall. He didn't spare Coran a glance, his teary eyes fixed firmly on Lance's door. Coran stepped out of his way as he raced up to it, shoving it aside inelegantly and calling out for Lance.

Slightly worried that Lance might get overwhelmed, Coran returned to his task in a hurry. It took little time to find the first transmission Lance had sent, and he sent the timestamp of it quickly to Allura before quietly sliding open Lance's door yet again.

A hug pile had formed around Lance on the floor, both Shiro and Hunk holding their friend who was apologizing yet again. He watched Hunk kiss his forehead and assure him that it was okay. Lance still shook, and Coran realized belatedly that just because he didn't understand how to comfort Lance as well as the other humans did, it would be remiss of him to withdraw his support from the boy.

He moved closer as Shiro also comforted Lance, and followed their lead, taking Lance's hands in his own. "We're here for you my boy," he told him seriously. "Take all the time you need." He felt it a victory when Lance slumped against them, no longer apologizing or trying to hide his tears.

* * *

Team POV

That was how Keith found them when he burst in a moment later. He paused, unsure of what to do with this situation. Lance, having heard the door open, immediately wiped a hand across his eyes and started apologizing. Keith wanted to tell him not to, but he wasn't sure how to say it without sounding rude. Instead he drew closer and put a hesitant hand on Lance's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. It was something that Shiro did to him often, and he always felt better for it.

Lance stilled at the feeling, glancing up at Keith in surprise before shrinking slightly at the frown on his face. He pulled back, away from Keith's hand and away from the hugging arms he'd been encircled in moments ago. Furiously, he brought his other hand up to scrub at his face again, willing the tears away.

He felt ashamed of his breakdown. Why was he sitting here and crying when he'd been the one who'd attacked Keith out there?

Hands were pulling at him again, but he shied from them and turned away, rubbing his arm across his eyes. They were coddling him, because they were nice and he was weak. But it wasn't fair. They shouldn't have to do that. They had just come from a long battle and they deserved to be relaxing, not here with him crying all over them. He couldn't keep falling apart like this.

Keith curled away, tucking his arms in on himself as his gaze dropped. He should have known better. He wasn't good at comforting people. That was better left to Shiro. Why had he even tried? He'd just made everything worse.

Shiro's heart ached as he saw his friend visibly withdraw. Keith had a hard time reaching out to others the way he had, and for it to have been not only rejected but to have made things seemingly worse…

Lance was in a delicate place right now, and Keith had to be aware of that to some degree, but probably not the extent of it. Lance had reacted badly to both himself and Hunk, but Keith didn't know that. He didn't want him to take this personally and pull away from the team as a result.

He glanced back at where Hunk and Coran were trying to talk to an unresponsive Lance, and then again at Keith who was glaring at the floor. With a heavy sigh, he went up to his best friend and set a hand on his shoulder. The same way that Keith had done for Lance.

Keith looked up at Shiro in surprise. Shiro gave him a reassuring smile, and nodded his head behind him. "Come on," he said, steering Keith gently toward them.

Keith wanted to protest. He shouldn't be here. He didn't know what to do in these situations, and he just wound up making a mess. Like he had a moment ago. But Shiro was drawing him up to where Lance was, still hiding his face with his arm and sniffling wetly.

"Lance," said Shiro gently.

Lance's breathing hitched, and a small "I'm sorry," tumbled out. Keith looked pained and tried to leave again, but Shiro shushed him and held him in place. Their leader smoothed a hand across Lance's tousled hair soothingly.

"You don't have to apologize," he reminded him calmly. Lance didn't relax this time, and Keith shifted nervously beside him. Shiro glanced over at him, eyes widening in realization.

"Lance," he said carefully, "you don't have to apologize. Keith is not angry at you. Are you Keith?"

Keith stared first at Shiro then at Lance, looking baffled. Lance still wouldn't look at him, and a glance back at Shiro showed that the question wasn't a joke.

"No?" He said, confusion seeping into his voice. He looked again at Lance, taking in the way his shoulders hunched and he seemed to curl in on himself, and his heart hurt. "I'm not mad, Lance. How could I be?"

At that, Lance froze. He turned, dropping his arm away from where it had been failing to hold back his tears to stare at Keith in disbelief. "How could you be?" he asked incredulously. "How could you be? Keith, I almost shot you. How could you not be? God, you must hate me so much." His voice hitched on the last sentence, and he looked away again, ashamed.

If Keith hated him, it was his own fault. For being so damn pathetic and useless. Crying over it was even more pathetic. And yet, he couldn't seem to stop.

"I-" Keith paused, frowning. Yes, he had been angry when Lance had run off after attacking him, furious even. But how could he still be angry, now that he knew that Lance had gone off to hate himself in solitude? "I'm not mad." Keith said simply. "It was an accident right?"

Lance nodded, sniffling. Keith nodded as well. "Then I'm not mad. And I don't hate you Lance. I couldn't. You're my brother."

"B-Brother?" Lance asked hoarsely, looking at Keith with wet eyes. Keith nodded with a determined frown. At that, Lance buried his face in his hands and started crying again, and Keith's heart sank. He really was terrible at this. He glanced back at Shiro pleadingly, and was surprised to get a smile and thumbs up.

Hunk was also grinning at him, and Keith couldn't help but feel that he'd missed something. He'd just reduced the guy's best friend to tears; what was good about this situation?

Hunk chuckled at Keith's clear confusion, and it caused Keith to look even more lost. "What?" Keith snapped, his hackles raising defensively.

He shook his head in amusement. "You should hug him dude," he said warmly. Keith blanched and looked back at Lance as if he were going to attack him.

"I made him cry," he said guiltily. Lance, apparently hearing that, suddenly latched his arms around Keith's waist and continued his bawling into Keith's shoulder. Keith stared down at his head in shock, before gently wrapping his own arms around Lance's back. Hunk and Shiro met gazes and exchanged proud smiles.

Just then, the door burst open to reveal Allura, with Pidge right on her heels. They paused, eyes widening at the scene, and Lance peeked up at them. He ducked his head again at their tense expressions, reluctantly pulling away from Keith.

The whole team was here. Because of him and his weakness. He could only imagine how pissed off Allura must be with him. He opened his mouth to apologize, and paused.

Shiro, Coran, and Hunk kept saying that he didn't have to be sorry. But just because they were okay with it, it didn't mean everybody else would be. He doubted that Pidge would be angrier than Keith, but he was definitely cutting into time the team could be doing more important things. He'd skipped the debriefing too. Yeah, Allura was probably furious.

"Sorry, I'm okay now," he said mostly to his feet. He was proud that his voice didn't tremble, given that his eyes still wouldn't quite quit tearing up.

Pidge crossed her arms, not buying it for a moment. "Like hell," she said, her attempt at a stern tone undercut by her own trembling voice, "What was all that about?"

Lance flinched away from her, hugging himself again, and Pidge felt her face fall further as her already stricken gut took another punch.

"It's okay, really, I'll be fine," Lance insisted, refusing to look up at them. He was still shaking as he continued his nervous babbling, "You guys don't have to stay here, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Lance," Coran interrupted firmly, moving to stand in front of Lance. Lance looked up at him, and Coran's stern look softened at his teary eyes. "We're here because we want to be lad," he said softly, "Nobody's angry at you."

Lance stared at him, his wide eyes clearly disbelieving. Hesitantly, he looked around the room at all of them, seeing nods and affirmations of Coran's words. "But –" he tried, returning his gaze to Coran.

A bristling Keith cut him off. "We're not going anywhere," he snapped, crossing his arms and staring at Lance with hard determination. Lance looked back at him, and then around the room again. He was met with nothing but sad, determined gazes.

Overwhelmed, he stepped back to put some distance between them and wrapped his arms around himself. "Okay," he whispered, not quite sure what else to say.

A moment of awkward silence passed as Lance drew into himself, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, and the team hesitated around what they wanted. They wanted to hug him. To talk. To make him feel alright. But none of them knew how to do that right now, when Lance was clearly pulling away.

It was Allura who finally broke the silence, stepping forward slightly and stopping immediately when he flinched away. Her heart ached for how agitated he seemed, but he needed to talk about this. "Lance," she said carefully.

He flashed her a nervous look but it quickly fell back to the floor and stayed there. "Yes?" He asked in a tiny voice.

"Can I sit?" She asked, gesturing to the bed beside her. Lance glanced at it, looked around the room again, and licked his lips. He nodded, watching her now as she sat down and looked up at him. He recognized this gesture. She was making herself smaller, less threatening. He had done it all the time at home when someone was upset. Against all odds, it calmed him slightly.

Allura smiled softly as she saw him relax a bit. "May I ask you a question?" She asked. Lance hesitated, glancing around the room again before he sighed in resignation.

"Yeah," he said quietly. He didn't want to be weak in front of them anymore, but he realized that there was no getting out of this coming talk.

She waited until he was looking at her again before continuing. "What did you mean when you said that we'd be better off if you weren't here?" She asked, faltering slightly around the question.

Lance dropped his eyes again. Then tension in the room rose again as he didn't answer, instead clenching and unclenching his fists and wondering when he had dropped his necklace. He half hoped that somebody – Hunk maybe – would step in, save him from having to answer this question right now. But it didn't happen. They all wanted to know the answer to this one.

Lance licked his lips nervously again, trying to order his thoughts. This was it, his moment of reckoning. He'd hoped that they wouldn't ask about his confessions just yet, that they'd give him time to work through his failures. To try and make himself better. He had little doubt that once they realized just how pathetic he really was, they would have no choice but to remove him from the team. No matter how much they cared, he was still a liability.

Large, strong hands were suddenly holding his gently and prying them open, and Lance realized he'd been clenching his fists tightly enough to cause indents. He looked up to see Hunk right in front of him, giving him a comforting smile. "It's okay buddy. Why don't you tell us what's wrong?" He asked.

He nodded, swallowing and glancing around again. The rest of the team had moved in closer, forming a loose semi-circle behind Hunk. He squeezed his eyes shut, then looked back at Hunk again. Even though he'd been thinking them not an hour ago, it was harder to put into words than he'd anticipated.

"I – I…" He paused, sighed, and dropped his gaze again. He didn't want to see the moment in Hunk's eyes when he realized that Lance couldn't be a Paladin. "I keep… fucking up."

There were immediate noises of protest, but he just spoke louder, talking over them. "I do. I fuck it up, I fuck it all up, the training, the missions, all of it. I can't… god, I don't know how to not be a fuckup. Even back at the Garrison I was –"

"Lance, no!" Hunk interrupted, his large hands suddenly cradling Lance's face as he lifted his head to look at him. Lance stared at him in surprise. Hunk's eyes were wet too. "Iverson was a jerk, okay?" He said forcefully, "Don't you believe a damned thing he said about you. Lance, you're amazing. You got into the _fighter program_. That's the hardest one for a pilot to get into. At one of the most prestigious flight schools."

Lance frowned. "Yeah, after Keith got kicked out," he argued. "They just needed a place-filler."

Shiro stepped up behind Hunk, resting a hand on Hunk's shoulder as he spoke. "Lance, I worked in the admissions and administrations office a bit in my final year at the Garrison," he said. "You would not believe how many pilots – _good_ pilots – apply there and don't get in. Just to be accepted into the program is huge."

Big, wet eyes met his, and Shiro smiled softly. "And trust me, there would have been a large candidate pool of pilots to take Keith's spot in the fighter program. The Garrison is a world-class military training institution. They would _not_ just arbitrarily pick someone. For you to be the first choice _is_ something. You have to be good, Lance. They wouldn't give the spot to 'a fuckup'."

"But," Lance's eyes welled up again as he looked between Hunk and Shiro, "I did fuck up. I kept crashing the simulators! I couldn't do it, I just fucked it up!"

He looked like he was about to cry again. Hunk gently pulled him into a hug, unashamed of his own tears as Lance let out a large sob into his chest. He maneuvered them to the bed and sat Lance down on his lap, winding his legs around Hunk's waist so that he could continue hugging him.

Allura immediately scootched up next to him, her hand a vice grip on Hunk's arm. Coran and Shiro also crowded close, while Pidge hovered just out of reach and Keith shifted restlessly.

None of them tried to touch Lance just yet, though. They left that to Hunk. He looked down at his crying friend. "Lance," he cooed, rubbing his friends back, "Lance, it's okay. It's okay buddy, listen to me. Please?" Lance quieted a little. His hands clenched into Hunk's shirt, but he nodded. Satisfied that Lance was listening, tilted his chin up so that he was looking at Hunk again. He needed to see that he was being sincere.

"Okay," he breathed out, seeing that he had his friend's undivided attention. "Lance, crashing those sims back at the Garrison doesn't make you a fuckup." Lance's eyes immediately got wide and then narrowed into a scowl, his mouth opening to protest.

Hunk held up a hand. "Uh uh, wait. Listen to me. You went into the second year fighter program having only one year of cargo experience. You were expected to make up the difference on your own time, but you were immediately thrown into full blown sims. You missed an _entire year_ of basic fighter sim training that you couldn't just learn from the textbooks.

Even if you were in the sims every day outside of class, you would still be behind. Iverson was a jerk who yelled at us for not doing as well as the students who'd been there from the beginning. But that doesn't make him right. You're not a fuckup Lance."

Lance stared at him, and for a glorious moment Hunk thought he might have gotten through to him. Then Lance's eyes slid to the side, and his shoulders slumped. "Maybe," he said with a sad little sigh, "but that doesn't change the fact, does it?

I'm a whole year behind, I don't know the basics of flying fighter. I don't what I'm doing, Hunk. How can I be a Paladin?"

He was crying now. He wanted to shut up and take their excuses, wanted so badly to continue being a Paladin. But he needed to be realistic. They were fighting a war, and he was dragging them down. Stepping aside was what was best for the team. He told them as much.

"Y-You guys would be better off finding another Paladin. A b-better one." He choked out, to immediate denials. "You would," he insisted.

"My boy," a sad voice behind him said, and a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Above him, Hunk started crying again and he felt horrible.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his own tears leaking down his face.

Pidge's stomach twisted as she denied Lance's statement, but he wasn't listening to them. Hesitantly, she crept forward. He wasn't responding to their assurances that he was a fine Paladin. She needed to get through to him another way.

Carefully, she put a hand on his thigh. "Lance," she said. He didn't respond, so she squeezed slightly. "Lance," she repeated firmly. He paused, sniffling, and then turned to her, trying to wipe away his tears.

"Lance, Hunk and I had no flying experience. At all. All we learnt were the emergency landing procedures. Should we also quit Voltron?" She asked him gently.

He frowned and shook his head. "It's not the same," he protested. "You and Hunk are amazing. Super smart geniuses. I'm not. I don't have any super redeeming talents. I'm not smart, I'm not strong, and I am not a great pilot."

"You are Lance. And Hunk and I don't need to be Paladins to help the team by being smart. We could go on missions as support, and someone better at piloting could fly the lions. It's what we trained to do," She reminded him. "But we don't do that, because the lions chose _us_. They saw something in us that made them decide that we were their choice of Paladin. And Blue saw something in you Lance. You were _chosen_ to be a Paladin. More than any of us."

Lance hesitated. He hadn't considered that. If Blue saw something in him worthy of being Paladin… maybe this wasn't completely a lost cause. As if on cue, he felt Blue's calming waves brushing against his mind. ' _My Cub,'_ she said, _'Blue could not reach cub. Cub was lost. Blue is happy cub can hear Blue now.'_

He relaxed into Hunk's hug, comforted by the return of her soothing presence that he had unintentionally blocked out while he'd been spiralling. A sigh seemed to collectively come from the room, as the tension eased slightly.

Shiro rubbed his hand up and down Lance's shoulder soothingly. "It was unfair of Iverson to expect you to learn the fundamentals on your own time while also being expected to fly complete sims, but you're doing really well. You're learning fast, even without training," he praised quietly.

Lance looked back at him with teary eyes. "Really?" He asked. His voice was absurdly hopeful, and Shiro noted that he should make an effort to praise Lance when he did well on things.

He nodded. "Yes. But… if this is really upsetting you, I would be happy to go over any training that you missed in first year. I tutored some kids back at the Garrison, and I like to think that I was pretty good at it." He nodded his head back in Keith's direction with a smile, and heard a good-natured scoff from behind him in response.

Lance was staring at him now with round blue eyes. "Really?" He asked breathlessly, and Shiro chuckled.

"Really." He confirmed.

Lance's eyes brimmed with tears again, and he flung himself backwards, twisting to hug Shiro and ending up half falling off of Hunk's lap and clinging to his leader for dear life. Shiro laughed good naturedly and lifted Lance off Hunk, pulling him into a proper hug. Hunk beamed at him over Lance's shoulder while Lance buried his face into Shiro's chest and failed to pretend that he wasn't crying again.

He loved being a Paladin so much, and the decision to give it up had been so hard. The fact that the team was willing to help him, to look past his flaws… and then he stiffened.

How could he forget? The reason that they were here in the first place, the problem that had kicked this all off? The failed mission today. Lance's… problem. Of course they were willing to keep him on. They didn't understand just how fucked up he was, how he couldn't even keep his mind in the game. Blue hadn't seen it, or she hadn't understood it, and that's why she'd picked him. But she'd made a mistake, she'd—

' _No Cub,'_ Blue interrupted, but Lance shook his head. She couldn't help, hadn't been able to stop him from almost shooting Keith today. How long before it happened again, and one of them didn't get out of the way in time? No, this was about more than being an untrained pilot, this was about him being unfit to pilot. It was about him being _dangerous_ to the team.

He wasn't aware of the rest of the team watching with worry while he trembled and pulled away, shaking his head repeatedly and unheeding of their questions. Shiro cupped Lance's face in his hands, calling his name softly until blue eyes refocused on him, wide and brimming with tears.

"What's wrong buddy?" He asked softly. Lance sniffled, looking away as he fought the urge to break down against the crushing disappointment of the hope he'd just started feeling being smashed to pieces.

The others had moved in closer, even Keith joining the huddle that had formed around him. Lance kind of wanted them to back off and give him space, but he also wanted them close for as long as possible before they realised that they would have to give up on him.

He sniffled again, and Shiro dropped his hands from Lance's face down to where his fists were clenched too tightly again. He caught them in his own hands and rubbed Lance's knuckles soothingly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. What is it Lance?" He repeated.

Lance dropped his eyes, staring resolutely at their hands. "I didn't—I _can't_ be the Paladin you guys need. I… what happened today..."

"Was a mistake," Shiro interrupted firmly, his thumbs still rubbing over Lance's knuckles soothingly. Lance was glad he wasn't making him meet his eyes again. He shook his head.

"You don't understand," he whispered, "I can't stop it. It'll happen again. I'll _fuck up_ again. I can't stop fucking up…" And great, now he was crying again. Hadn't his tear ducts run out yet?

Shiro looked ready to protest, but Keith stepped forward before he could. "What do you mean 'you can't stop it'?" He asked, his voice tense. "What can't you stop?"

Lance went still, quiet as he tried to figure out how to explain it. "It's all so… much," he said eventually. There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out what he meant, before Allura gently stroked his shoulder.

"What is too much?" She asked carefully. Lance sighed, drawing his arms away from Shiro to hug himself again.

"Everything? I don't know. The battle," he admitted. "It's all too loud and too bright and too busy and I can't… I _can't_ …"

"You can't focus." Hunk finished for him. Lance nodded, his shoulders slumping.

"I can't keep my head in the game," he sighed, "and then I fuck up. It's… it's not every battle. Sometimes it's fine, even if it's a lot." He paused for a moment before continuing in an even quieter voice, "But other times I just… can't."

He sneered at his hands in disgust, and his voice started getting louder again, gaining a slight edge that worried his team. "I should, I know I should. Sometimes I can do it so why can't I do it all the time right? S-So I _try_ , I try to make it work but I can't because I'm a fuckup and ohgod I want to be a Paladin, y'know, but I shouldn't because I'm going to keep fucking up and hurt somebody and— "

And then he was cut off again, by Shiro pulling him into a hug. He immediately melted into his grip, dropping his head forward again to rest on Shiro's sturdy chest. More arms found their way around the pair, forming an awkward group hug. Lance was more than a little surprised to find Keith's gloved hand tucked around his elbow.

The hug lasted for a long moment, nobody saying anything much beyond soothing 'there there's and cooing. Lance closed his eyes and basked in it for a glorious, bittersweet moment. This was it, he knew. The goodbye hug. Soon, they would gently break it to him that they were sorry but he wasn't wrong; it was too much of a danger to fight with someone like him.

It wasn't long before there was a shift, and Keith pulled back to look at Lance with a complete frown. "How come we never feel this when we form Voltron?" He asked. Lance looked at him with a sheepish half-smile.

"Having the mind-meld…helps," he admitted. "Everyone is so focused on the task that it kind of…keeps me on track."

Hunk perked up immediately. "That's good right?" He said, "Maybe you can tell us when you're getting overwhelmed so we can form up and help you out!"

Lance hung his head again, feeling small and useless. Like a leech, a pest taking from them and giving nothing in return. The thought of them being forced to form Voltron because he was being a fuck up made him feel sick.

"That wouldn't work," he denied in a small voice. Hunk started to protest, but he shook his head. "There have been a lot of situations where it wasn't practical to form Voltron, and there will be more. You can't put yourselves at a disadvantage for me." He heard an intake of breath from somewhere in the huddle, and he huffed. "Besides, we can't do that on ground missions anyway."

There was a short pause, before Pidge hesitantly spoke up. "Does anything else help?" She asked. Lance looked at her in confusion and she clarified, "You said the mind-meld helps. Is there anything else you've tried that helps?"

He nodded warily. "Uh… talking," he muttered, pausing and biting his lip before adding, "music too, sometimes. Depends on what it is. Instrumental music is best, but there are some others that help."

Pidge brightened up immediately. "Music? We can do that! I have some on my phone that might help and I'm probably not the only one so we can put together a playlist or—"

"We have to keep the comms open during battle," Lance interrupted before she could get her – and his – hopes up too high. She deflated slightly, looking at him in confusion. "We have to keep the comms open so I can't put in headphones because then I won't hear anything, and I can't play it out loud because then you guys will hear it and it'll distract you. My problems shouldn't affect you guys."

Pidge pursed her lips and frowned. "Lance, you focus in a different way but that doesn't mean you're any less worthy than us of being comfortable out there," she told him. Lance shrugged, looking away. She shook her head with a sigh. "Besides, it doesn't have to affect us. I'm sure I can stream the music to your helmet speakers so we won't hear it, and it'd be no problem to adjust it to stop when a transmission comes over the comms."

Lance looked over at her in surprise, teary eyes wide and bright with hope. "You'll do that?" He asked.

Pidge smiled and punched his arm softly. "Of course I'll do that you big lummox," she said. "We're family."

Lance looked like he was going to start bawling all over again as he shook his head and swiped an arm across his eyes. "You guys are great," he sniffled, then shook his head. "But this is a lot of effort to go to. I'm not a great Paladin, you know? It'd be easier to get a new one."

Pidge's heart clenched, and she shook her head in denial. "Lance, no! We're not replacing you!"

"I know you don't want to, because you guys are too nice to think like that, but you should," Lance said with a sigh. "I need extra training and extra accommodations and I don't even really bring anything much besides being good with a gun. You guys could probably find a great pilot among our allies who doesn't need their hand held."

There were immediate protests again, but Lance shook his head. As much as he liked to play the hero, this was the time for honesty apparently. And the honest truth was that Lance wasn't anything special. Certainly not worth all the effort it would cost to make him even halfway effective.

Allura frowned as Lance refused to believe them, her grip going to Lance's shoulder and clamping there. "Lance, do you know about the Lionheart Festival?" She asked. Lance looked at her in confusion, the change of topic catching him off guard. He shook his head. She nodded. "I thought not. It is a fabled Festival on the planet Tyllo, which you all have just liberated today. It is thrown to commemorate heroes so influential that they pass into legend. Those heroes are placed in such prestige as to almost be held amongst their pantheon of gods."

Lance was nodding along with the look of interest that he often held when learning about new alien cultures. It made Allura smile. "Queen Eltra of Tyllo would like to hold the Lionheart Festival for Voltron tomorrow," she told him.

He wasn't the only one who reacted. She heard some gasps and stifled exclamations coming from the rest of the team, but her gaze remained trained on Lance. His eyes and gone round and he looked impressed. "That's awesome," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "This is great for the Alliance also right? Is it prestigious? It'll help us win other allies too?"

Allura smiled indulgently. "Yes Lance. It is known throughout the galaxy, although it is thrown so rarely that it is oft considered little more than myth itself." Lance looked, if possible, even more impressed. "Do you know why they chose to bestow us this honour?" She asked casually.

"Because we were super heroic and saved their planet?" He asked, in a tone that indicated that this was the obvious answer. Pidge let out a snort of laughter. Allura just shook her head with a smile.

"Because of you," she said, and privately enjoyed the way he stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment before his mouth fell open.

"What?" He repeated in a strange strangled-sounding screech-squawk.

"Yes," she confirmed conversationally. "You compromised your safety to save a civilian. You turned your back on your enemies for someone you didn't know. That's why they are throwing us this festival. It's why you are a great Paladin."

"Because I did my job?" Lance asked skeptically. Allura shook her head.

"Your job is to defeat Zarkon and bring peace to the universe," she said. "Dying for one civilian stranger is contrary to that. Yet any one of you would do so regardless. That is not a trait easily replaced."

Lance blinked at her, speechless. His mind swirled, wanting to bask in the praise and yet refusing to believe it. Surely it couldn't be that hard to find selfless people? There were six others right here with him in this room. He wasn't sure how to respond, and was grateful when Hunk suddenly shifted behind him and stuck his hand up in the air.

"Is something the matter Hunk?" Allura asked in confusion.

Hunk blinked, realising that she wasn't familiar with the human gesture, and felt his cheeks warming with a blush. He shook quickly shook his head and stuck his hand behind his back. "I'm good," he said, "I just wanted to say… I would totally save a civilian and all, but dude. I didn't even see one in that battle. Like… at all. So good job Lance."

There were murmurs of assent and agreement from around them. "I didn't see anyone either," Pidge agreed, while Shiro and Keith nodded along.

"Lance, you always did have good team and surrounding awareness in battle," Pidge mused. "You're know what's going on with your teammates, and you usually seem to be in tune with shifts in the battlefield.

You notice a lot, so it actually kind of makes sense that it'd be too much sometimes. When you're able to focus with it, though, it's really useful. I feel a lot safer out there because I know you're watching my back. So don't think that you don't bring anything to the team or to the fight. Because you do."

Lance looked overwhelmed as the rest of the team chorused their agreements. He buried his face in Shiro's chest again as his shoulders started shaking. The smile Shiro threw at her was proud, and Pidge grinned, her shoulders lifting at the little "Thank you," that slipped out between Lance's hiccoughs.

Shiro waited until Lance had pulled himself together a bit before he pulled him back so he could look him in the eye. "You're our Blue Lance, and we're not trading you. We'll help you through this. But please, if it ever gets too much even with the music, tell us alright? You can black out your helmet and have Blue muffle the sound, and we'll cover for you until you're feeling better."

Lance stared up at him, wide-eyed, and then shook his head. "No way! I can't put you guys at risk because I'm not pulling my weight!" He protested hotly.

Keith crossed his arms again and frowned. "We protect people all the time," he said. "It's not a big deal. If it'll help out, we'll do it."

"But I help us protect people. I don't want to be a burden while also taking away some of our firepower because I can't handle the fire!" Lance huffed, turning to face off against Keith.

Shiro gently held his shoulders and turned him back to face him. "Lance, when I have flashbacks and freeze up do you think I should just get over it?" He asked. Lance froze, looking stunned.

"No, but—" he stammered. Shiro shook his head.

"You cover me. Why do you think we'd do any less for you?"

Lance blinked, his mouth opening and closing a few times, before he shook his head. "It's not the same!" He insisted. "You have PTSD Shiro. You can't help it. _They_ gave it to you. I just… have a fucked up brain or something. I wasn't held captive for a year, I have no reason to—"

Shiro cut him off, looking pained. "Lance, it's not your fault either. You can't help it any more than I can. And there isn't a cut-off as to how much trauma you have to suffer before you're allowed to need help. Please don't put your troubles aside because you think that they're not as big as someone else's."

Lance frowned, bit his lip and looked away. "I just… I feel like I should hold it together better," he said softly. "You're so strong and you've been through so much. I want to be strong too, y'know?"

Shiro felt an ache in his chest, and his eyes misted up. "You are strong Lance. All of you are. And maybe we haven't been through the same things but it doesn't mean that you haven't been through a lot too. We're at war. You've almost died, we've all almost died. The fact that you're still here, fighting, day after day… that takes so much strength. And I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud of all of us."

Lance looked up at him, smiling a teary smile. "I'm proud of you too Shiro," he told him, and Shiro bit back the urge to start crying. He looked at the ground for a moment to compose himself, before shaking his head.

"Thanks Lance," he said. Lance nodded back, and there was more charged silence until Shiro forcibly shoved past the somber tone. "So, will you let us protect you if it gets too much?" He asked in a much lighter manner.

Lance looked momentarily taken aback by the change, but he rolled with it. "I guess," he nodded, still reluctant at the idea but willing to put his misgivings aside. If they wanted to, he supposed he owed it to them to let them try. Shiro nodded, grinning suddenly.

"Good. Because we're Defenders of the Universe and all," he said with a smirk, "so really we ought to be able to defend one gangly Earthling. Gotta let us do our jobs Lance."

The rest of the team dissolved into laughter. Lance stared at Shiro for a moment, incredulous, before dropping his head back with a groan. "Really?" he said, and then he started giggling along too.

"Alright, that was a lot of crying," Hunk said, wiping his own face, "who wants some space cookies?" There was immediate screams and scrambling for the door, with Hunk chasing after them hollering that the cookies weren't actually done yet.

The rest of them laughed as Lance threw himself dramatically to the floor, moaning about betrayal, and they had hope that things would be all right.

They all knew that nothing was magically fixed. There would still be times where Lance doubted himself and his place, and times where he hid from the team. That might never fully go away. But this was just the first step on the path, and they were determined to be beside him for every step he took in the future.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it :)**


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